"Hey, hey, calm down. They can't hurt you anymore."
Ingrid looked out the window warily at the paparazzi waiting outside for her. There were at least ten, all with giant cameras. They had been there since she and Adam got their appetizers; somebody at the restaurant undoubtedly tipped them off, which is why they were all outside.
"What's the matter?" Adam asked, his fingers grazing over the back of her hand.
"We have company," Ingrid grumbled.
"Again?" Adam's head darted towards the restaurant's front doors. "Jesus Christ. They're everywhere."
"What are we going to do?" Ingrid asked.
"Don't worry. We'll get the hostess to call us a cab and meet us right out front," Adam said. "If they try anything I'll cut a bitch."
Ingrid couldn't help but smile at Adam's comment, but she also couldn't help the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach that most definitely did not come from the food they just ate. "How can you still put up with me?"
"I don't put up with you, Ingrid."
"I worded that wrong – this isn't normal. The fact that they followed us here isn't normal. And if they didn't follow us here, the fact that someone called them isn't normal. What if that one guy is here again? The guy who tried to get into the -"
"Hey, hey, calm down. They can't hurt you anymore. I'm here for you, you know. I'm not just a hot piece of ass," he smiled, trying to lighten her mood. "I worry about you when I'm not around, but you have nothing to worry about when I'm around. I'm here for you."
"Adam -"
"I'm here for you. I'm not going to let anybody hurt you," he said definitively.
It was amazing how a few simple words and a specific tone of voice calmed her considerably, more than she thought it would. Adam was protective, that was for sure – ever since a paparazzo had virtually broken into their training facility and harassed Ingrid in the locker room. That was before they even started dating.
The flashes started immediately, right as Ingrid and Adam walked through the door. He held on to her hand tightly, leading the way through the crowd and the flashes.
Ingrid! Ingrid! How you doin' tonight?
Looking good Ingrid!
How was dinner, lovebirds?
"Give us room to walk, guys," Adam said, noticing that Ingrid had brought her hand up to shield her face from all the flashes.
As Adam opened the backseat door and let Ingrid slip into the car first, he felt the giant lens of a camera push against his arm, getting a shot of Ingrid sitting in the backseat. "Hey!" he said in the loudest, most intimidating voice he could muster. "Back the fuck off!"
The paparazzo seemed intimidated enough, bringing his camera back to face to snap more pictures of Adam's angry face. "Fuckin' unbelievable," Adam muttered before slipping into the cab, urging the driver to get the hell out of there.